


Exact

by soraniknatu



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soraniknatu/pseuds/soraniknatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Bragging Rights 2010, Barrett lets Cena know who is in charge. </p>
<p>Older fic but a goodie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exact

The door slams open, the sound echoing in the empty locker room as Barrett storms in. He paces the length of the room, kicking a garbage can out of his path. The can arcs in the air and hits the only lit light at the center of the room.

The door opens again and Cena enters. Barrett’s Nexus shirt hangs from his hand at his side.

“I suppose you think you’re clever,” Barrett’s voice echoes.

The corner of Cena’s mouth inches upwards as he glances at Barrett. He looks down at the shirt in his hands.

“You won the match.” He offers and tosses the shirt to Barrett.

Barrett charges Cena, snatching the shirt from the air,

“I ordered you to assist me.”

Cena takes a defiant step forward, stopping Barrett’s charge. The two stand less than a hair’s width away from each other.

“You ordered me to assist you to a win. You never said anything about the title.”

Barrett glowers at Cena, “You knew exactly what I meant.”

“Maybe,” Cena smiles and steps back. “But you hadn’t specified.”

Barrett juts his jaw and nods.

“Exact words then? Next time I will try to be clearer”. Barrett closes the distance and slams the door shut as Cena attempts to open it. Eyes on Cena, Barrett backs him into the wall.

“Don’t think this will go unpunished, Cena. Look. At. Me.” Barrett orders as Cena turns his head away.

Cena meets Barrett’s eye.

“I think you need a reminder of how things work around here. When I order you to do something for me, you will do it without hesitation. No. No!” Barrett raises his hand as Cena attempts to interrupt. “No looking for loopholes. Just do as you are told.” Barrett moves his face closer to Cena’s. “Remove your shirt.”

Cena is motionless, his face hard with anger.

“Without hesitation, Cena. Or you’re fired…”

Cena moves away from the wall suddenly before Barrett finishes, sending him back a few steps. Cena pushes past Barrett, keeping his head down and attempting to restrain his anger. With his back to Barrett, Cena grips his shirt at the sleeve, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor in one quick motion.

“Happy?” Cena shrugs, an edge to his tone.

Barrett circles around Cena, smiling as he kicks the shirt to the side and tosses his own on top.

“Now,” Barrett lowers his head and considers Cena, “Remove your pants.”

Cena’s face softens in surprise before his brow contracts,

“What?”

“Are you deaf?” Barrett barks and saunters over. “Remove. Your. Pants.”

Cena drops his eyes. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists. He could not stop himself from lifting his hands away from his sides like he was one more push away from tearing his tormenter apart.

“Try it,” Barrett dares and pushes himself back into Cena. “We both know you won’t lay a hand on me.” Backing off, Barrett smiles, “That is unless I order you to. Now. Remove your pants or I will fire you on the spot.”

This has to be a joke, Cena tells himself.

Barrett hadn’t moved, he watches Cena and waits.

Cena slides his shoes off, backing away from Barrett as he does so. His fingers feel numb as they work to loosen his belt. Barrett kicks the sneakers to the side with one booted foot.

The belt buckle clangs on the cement floor as Cena’s jeans hit. He steps out and behind, intentionally trying to put some space between he and Barrett.

Both men turn as they hear noise from the hallway. Barrett slides the jeans off to the side with the rest of the clothes and walks past Cena to the door. Cena tenses when he hears the lock click. Barrett walks towards the lockers on Cena’s left, kicking the trashcan out of his way and into the wall. Cena watches the can roll across the floor, spilling the last of its contents until it comes to a stop on its dented side.

With his back to Cena, Barrett pulls a water bottle from his locker and turns to face the other man. Eyeing Cena, his gaze stops at Cena’s boxer shorts. Barrett takes a quick drink and sets the bottle down on the bench,

“All of it.”

He’s joking. Cena closes his eyes and inhales deeply. I’ll do it, he’ll laugh and it’ll be over.

Cena thumbs the waistband of his boxer shorts. His breathing is shallow, his anger barely contained.

“Now.” Barrett says.

He slides his boxers down his legs and steps out of them. Cena opens his eyes, keeping them fixed forward.

“Put it on the pile.”

He does so, kicking them to the side like Barrett had done. He waits to hear the snicker from Barrett, the ridiculing laughter, anything to signal that this was going to end so he could grab his clothes and leave.

“On your knees.”

Cena’s head snaps in Barrett’s direction. His mouth opens wordlessly before he finally finds the words,

“You’re joking.”

Barrett wasn’t smiling; his eyes shadowed into dark hollows from the overhead light,

“On. Your. Knees.”

Hesitantly, Cena drops to one knee first than the other. He turns his head away from Barrett suddenly, horrified to see that Barrett has an erection.

Barrett sits down and reclines to rest his back against the cool steel of the locker. He notices with amusement the flush of Cena’s cheeks and his hands curled tight into fists on his thighs. Barrett slithers his hand across his side, down his stomach and under the waistband of his trunks. Circling his long fingers around his cock, he slowly slips his hand down and up. He lets out a ragged breath and Cena shudders at the sound.

“Cena,” Barrett purrs. “Come here.”

He begins to rise to his feet.

“Ah!” Barrett warns. “On your knees and crawl over here” Gripping himself a little tighter, Barrett reminds Cena, “Or I will fire you.”

Turning his head slowly, Cena glares at Barrett from across the room.

Bits of paper, aluminum cans, and plastic bottles dust the floor in two crisscrossing paths from one wall to the other, forming borders between he and Barrett.

Cena considers getting to his feet, grabbing his clothing and leaving. He shakes his head, his gaze going back to the wall in front of him.

“Do it,” He hears Barrett say, his voice venomous. Cena thinks about getting his clothes back on and beating the hell out of Barrett before he leaves. His eyes move back to Barrett, the look on his face betraying his thoughts.

“Do it,” Barrett repeats. “Or never experience another night as an employee in the WWE.”

Cena exhales harshly through his nostrils, his face cloudy as his eyes shut. He drops to his hands, roughly shoving the first bits of litter out of his path as he crawls over. Barrett watches him the whole way with a sick fascination. Stopping just outside of Barrett’s knees, Cena repeats in his head a promise to his tormentor I’m going to get you.

“You look so at home on your knees, Cena” The corner of Barrett’s mouth lifts into a half smirk.

I’m going to get you. Cena swallows dryly and looks away when Barrett pulls himself out of his trunks.

“I would not have anticipated that you would enjoy this sort of treatment,” Barrett laughs.

Cena sits back onto his haunches and glares at Barrett,

“You’d fire me if I didn’t do as you say.”

“Is that really it?”

Barrett’s fierce gaze drifts lower on Cena, examining his exposed body and seeing clearly that his dick is hard.

“I didn’t order that,” Barrett grins mockingly.

Grimacing, Cena keeps his eyes focused on Barrett’s.

“Does it turn you on to be treated like this, Cena?” Barrett taunts. “Now I see why you’re looking for loopholes to weasel your way out of your obligations to me. You want to appear like you’re attempting to get out when, in reality, you’re enjoying it…”

“Shut up,” Cena growls.

“You can’t let down the CeNation,” Barrett keeps his voice low. “But how would they react to their hero getting down on his hands and knees at my feet? How would they react to you enjoying it?”

Cena’s muscles burn from his stance but he didn’t dare fall forward and closer to Barrett.

“You are pathetic.” Barrett drawls.

“I’m. Not. Pathetic,” Cena’s voice as low as Barrett’s.

“You are pathetic.” Barrett repeats. He quickens his hand and speaks slowly, “All that protest. It’s just a rouse so no one catches on that you’re loving every moment of being under my boot.”

Cena follows Barrett’s gaze as it slowly lowers down his body.

Cena’s fingers feel like they are about to snap, his fists curled tight. But the pain in his hands isn’t distracting him from his burning muscles, his aching erection or the thought that Barrett might be right.

“Look at how hard you are,” Barrett exhales.

Cena feels feverish; the air he breathes too heavy.

“Touch yourself, John.”

He’s ashamed at how fast he obeys. His grateful fingers uncurl themselves and lightly circle his cock. Cena closes his eyes and his breath catches in his throat as he strokes himself.

Barrett’s head falls back lazily, a self-satisfied smile slowly lifting his lips,

“You’re such a good little pet,”

Scowling, Cena’s eyes open and fix on Barrett as if to stare a hole directly though him. But it wasn’t lost on either that Cena hadn’t stopped moving his hand.

Cena grips himself a little tighter and jacks a little harder.

“Does that feel good, John?”

Cena closes his eyes again.

“Why do I ask?” Barrett taunts, “I can see that it does.”

Lowering his head, a bead of sweat makes a slow path down the side of Cena’s face, down his throat, and onto his chest. Barrett sits up leisurely and watches it. Cena’s hand moves at a steady pace, his eyes still closed and his lips parted. Barrett leans forward, stopping when his face is a few inches away from Cena’s shoulder. He pauses for a moment, glancing at Cena who hasn’t noticed the other’s position change. Barrett closes the distance and traces a path from Cena’s chest to his throat with his tongue.

Cena gasps, his eyes opening. He turns his head, their faces inches apart. Barrett teasingly nips at Cena’s jaw and snickers when Cena attempts to move his face closer.

What am I doing? Cena asks himself but the message is just as distant as the muffled voices from the other side of the locked door. The cool tingle of the path on Cena’s throat seems to intensify with each breath from Barrett.

Barrett leans forward again, his head back and his chin out. His smile is proud yet mocking. Pushing Cena’s hand away, Barrett’s hand wraps around Cena’s dick and begins to move slowly up and down the length. Barrett’s tongue follows the path of Cena’s jugular, his tongue moving with the same agonizing slowness of his hand. Stopping just below Cena’s ear, Barrett closes his lips over the piece of skin. Sucking lightly, Barrett increases the speed of his hand and feels Cena harden under his touch and twitch in his hand when he bites down.

Cena hissed, his hand coming up and his fingertips grazing Barrett’s kneepad. He focuses on the friction of the fabric against his fingertips to keep from making a sound he’d regret. He feels Barrett’s tongue on the tip of his ear and the scratch of his teeth as he sucks the lobe into his mouth. Cena tries to steady his breathing. Barrett shifts forward and Cena’s fingers brush against the top of his thigh.

Barrett grabs Cena’s wrist and pulls his hand further up his leg. Cena stands up on his knees following Barrett’s lead.

“Don’t be so selfish, John” Barrett breaths hotly and bites down on Cena’s earlobe.

Reaching forward, Cena circles his thumb and index finger around Barrett’s cock. Barrett growls into Cena’s ear and shifts forward and further into Cena’s hand. Cena half laughs-half sighs at Barrett’s eagerness and closes his grip, tightly jacking Barrett. His sudden exhale makes Cena shiver.

“Careful,” Barrett warns, sitting upright. A shuttering breath escapes Barrett’s parted lips as Cena works Barrett’s cock with slow, long strokes. His head falls back against the locker, his hands gripping the bench. His lips are sealed tight, a moan rumbles deep in his throat.

An edge of Cena’s mouth curves up but he feels like it’s not him who is controlling it. His hand moves on its own accord and he watches it. The sting of Barrett’s bite on his neck pulses with each heartbeat and the blood pounds in his ears yet he feels like it’s happening to someone else. His hand increases its speed and Barrett’s eyes close while his mouth opens in a silent cry and Cena watches from afar. Cena’s free hand moves to the front of his body and he takes himself in his hand. He barely hears the voice in his head questioning his current actions as his body shifts closer to Barrett. His vision tunnels and his breathing increases, the smirk on his face reminiscent of Barrett’s.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when Barrett cries out. His shout brings Cena back to himself; he feels Barrett’s body stiffen and watches his eyes shut tight as he comes. Cena’s eyes dart to the locker room door, certain someone must have heard Barrett.

Barrett loosens his grip on the bench, his breathing slowing as his orgasm abates. Looking up at the light hanging over them, he laughs. Casually lowering his head, he lazily smiles at Cena and laughs again when he sees Cena’s hand still on his cock,

“Pathetic.” He sneers.

Sitting up straight, Barrett tucks himself back into his trucks. Cena’s eyes are dark, his head down and his breathing harsh.

“You said I’d be fired if I didn’t do as you said.” He justifies, his hand falling to floor.

Barrett’s smile widens.

“I did say that,” He admits and then laughs. “But when did I tell you to touch me?”

Barrett rises to his feet, knocking Cena back. He scans the room quickly before looking back down on Cena,

“Tidy up in here, will you? It’s a disgrace.”

And he steps past Cena and heads towards the shower.


End file.
